I was desperate on an almost-spring night, some four or five years ago; I was looking for a fix. I walked the halls and up the stairs, and I stood in front of a wall of books. I wanted words to jump off the pages and tenderly tuck a stray hair behind my ear, and kiss

Spread it!

The wind is cold and it whips freezing fingers against my collarbones, and I have a boy clinging to my hip as I pull the heavy door open, seeking warmth, seeking safety. A man, with a little bit of white hair on his head, nods in our direction as we head to the right, not

Spread it!

I reached over the baby gate for the nearest article of clothing; my gray speckled hoodie, and I blew my nose in it. I didn’t care. Who cares about Kleenex when the what ifs and the God whys are right on top of you? I let weepy tears cover my face, and I could feel